


Dreamers of the Day (Across the Sky in Stars Remix)

by derryderrydown



Category: Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
Genre: Gen, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remix of Carmarthen's <a href="http://thewritegirls.populli.net/carmarthen/dream.html">Dreamers of the Day</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamers of the Day (Across the Sky in Stars Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dreamers of the Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/44572) by [Carmarthen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/pseuds/Carmarthen). 



When Lawrence came out of the desert, Ali had to shade his eyes. The air around Lawrence burned and it took Ali too long to realise the heat came from the man.

The camel he rode blazed with the same fierce intensity as Lawrence, whiter than the sun, and Ali couldn't look at her. So he burned his eyes by watching Lawrence slide down the camel's side and collapse at her feet.

And then he was crouching by Lawrence, holding his canteen to the man's cracked lips and dribbling the water into his parched mouth. He was scared to look at Lawrence's eyes, so he looked at the blood on his clothes, blood that was already dry and faded enough that Lawrence could have been in the desert for weeks.

Finally, Lawrence pushed the canteen away. "La ilaha illa 'lah."

His accent had changed. Before, he sounded Syrian, no matter what dialect he was speaking. Now, he spoke pure, classical Arabic and Ali could have sworn he felt the earth shift under his feet. "There is no god but Allah," Ali murmured and he rested his hands on Lawrence's face, made himself look into Lawrence's eyes.

And nearly ran from what he saw there.

* * *

That night, Ali sat in darkness and listened to Lawrence sleep.

He whimpered and he moaned and once he screamed.

Ali felt as though he should comfort Lawrence but he was scared to do so, scared to touch the man he had thought he loved.

"No," Lawrence cried and it was the first word of English Ali had heard from him since they entered Deraa.

Ali closed his eyes and leaned forward to wrap his arms around Lawrence, ignoring the burning heat that should surely have singed Lawrence's robes.

He was still Lawrence. No matter what had happened to him in Deraa, in the desert, anywhere. He was still Lawrence.

When Ali woke, Lawrence was gone.

* * *

It was evening when Lawrence returned, riding the impossibly white camel. His eyes seemed to have burned the flesh from his face, leaving him nothing but skin, bones and fire. But he rested his hand on Ali's shoulder and smiled.

"They come," he said.

"Who comes?" Ali tried to speak as though he knew this man. "Who comes, Lawrence?"

Lawrence shook his head, dignity in every movement. "Not Lawrence."

Ali didn't mean to say the name but it slid out of his mouth as though it came with his very breath. "Aurens."

Lawrence closed his eyes and dipped his head. "Aurens." Then he had both hands on Ali's shoulders and he leaned forward to lightly kiss Ali's cheeks. And a third kiss on Ali's forehead and it wasn't a kiss. It was a brand.

"I loved Lawrence," Ali managed to say.

Aurens smoothed his hand over Ali's hair. "Then I am sorry for your loss. Lawrence is dead."

"In Deraa?"

"In Deraa." Aurens spoke as though it didn't matter. "In many other places, many other times."

"I see," Ali said, although he didn't.

Aurens' smile was terrifyingly gentle. "You will."

In the morning, Aurens was gone again.

* * *

On the evening of the third day, the tribes began to arrive. Bani Salem, Juhayna, Howeitat, Ruwallah, Bani Sakher, and more.

And they camped together. One huge mass of Bedu, with the distinction between tribes foregone.

The word was everywhere. In the water, in the smoke of the fires, in the air around them. One word, uniting all.

_Jihad._

An Englishman had declared Jihad and the tribes had answered his call.

And this, Ali told himself, was a good thing because it meant they would win.

Nonetheless, late at night, in the darkness, he mourned Lawrence.

* * *

They took Deraa.

Aurens led the way and he blazed as the sword of Allah.

The tribes followed and the Turks fell before them and the blood flowed freely.

* * *

The night before Damascus, Ali thought he saw Lawrence. When he kissed Aurens, his eyes were full of terror and Ali held him close. And Lawrence kissed him back. Sweet kisses, mere touches of his lips against Ali's cheek, under his ear, beneath his jaw, on his collarbone.

And then the kisses became burning hot and perhaps Lawrence had never been there at all.

* * *

The tribes waited before Damascus.

Aurens waited in front of them and Ali thought that, maybe, when the war was over, Lawrence would return.

Aurens lifted his arm.

That, Ali thought, would be worth fighting for.

Aurens dropped his arm and the tribes surged forward, shrieking their battlecries.

Worth living for.

"Inshallah," Ali said, and he rode with them.


End file.
